


Definitions

by dawnperhaps



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Grooming, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnperhaps/pseuds/dawnperhaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel’s wings need grooming and Gabriel thinks it’s time for a little girl talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Definitions

**Author's Note:**

> Possible butchering of the Greek language. I have no idea what time period this could have possibly happened in.

“I’m sorry you have to do this.”

Castiel shifts uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, trying to relax and failing.  It’s a very human feeling, he assumes, to feel so physically uneasy.  He doesn’t like it.  The hands on his splayed wings still until he settles again, and Castiel worries that his embarrassment is tangible, that the angel behind him can easily poke around in his Grace and see everything from his unbearable shyness to his fierce flattery. Archangels do not groom the wings of lesser angels, at least not that he’s ever heard of.  He’s both honored that this archangel would stoop for him and horrified that he might feel like he has to.  After all, there aren’t many angels jumping at the opportunity to do Castiel a favor.

“I’m not,” comes the warm response, and Castiel can hear the amused smile in his voice.  “Relax, kiddo.  We all need a little sprucing up for time to time.”

“Yes, but you…” Castiel trails off.   _You’re an Archangel_ , he wants to say, but that would sound silly.  He’s acutely aware, however, that these are the hands that touched Michael’s wings, Raphael’s wings, and probably even Lucifer’s wings.  Not the hands of Gabriel’s vessel, of course, but the Grace within those hands, the one that shines so much brighter than his own.

“I’ve been off the reservation for a little while,” Gabriel responds as if Castiel had spoken aloud.  “At the end of the day, we’re both angels.  Well.  We’re both kind of angels, anyway.”

Fingers move steadily through Castiel’s feathers, separating them and smoothing them down.  It’s a wonderful feeling, calming and satisfying, all itches and uncomfortable pulls being taken away.  He’s sure they’re dirty, covered in ash and disobedience, but Gabriel doesn’t mention it, humming softly as he works.

“You’re happy,” Castiel mentions absently.  With Gabriel’s hands on him, he can feel the other’s Grace so effortlessly and, through that Grace, his emotions.  He’s a huge presence behind him and Castiel feels small for the first time in a while, so used to being around the lesser objects of Dean and Sam’s souls.

“Sure am,” Gabriel replies.  “Shouldn’t I be?”

“You cared for Michael and Lucifer,” Castiel says cautiously.  “I would have assumed-”

“That I’d be wallowing around, crying myself to sleep every night?” Gabriel interrupts. “No, thank you.”  He pauses, the silence heavy as he frees a few clumped feathers from their tangles.  “I mourned for them a long time ago, Castiel.  Before I left Heaven, even.  I have different priorities now.”

“Like Sam?” Castiel asks.  He’s been curious for months now, taking in all of the playful glances and the intimate touches, so easy and effortless.  Dean’s younger brother has always fascinated him and Gabriel has always been something of an enigma.  Together, they only confuse him further, but he longs to understand the contentment in their eyes when they look at each other.  It’s the same longing he felt when Anna gave him the option of rebelling, a strange path laid out in front of him that he can’t seem to walk down yet, perhaps because he doesn’t truly want to.  Or perhaps because he’s afraid.

“Like Sam,” Gabriel agrees rather cryptically.

“I don’t understand the attraction.”

Gabriel laughs, giving his right wing a playful tug.  “Oh, I think you do, kiddo.”

Castiel frowns.  He hates being mocked and hates even more not knowing what he’s being mocked for.  When he’s around Gabriel, he seems to experience both feelings quite a bit.

“I don’t.  Your Grace and Sam’s soul can never properly conjoin.  The only successful joining of a human and an angel resulted in the Nephilim.”

“No, that was just only one to make the papers,” Gabriel corrects.  His hand smoothes down Castiel’s softer axillaries, which are ruffled in frustration.  “No one wants to hear about a happy marriage, Cas.  That’s boring.”

“You’re much more powerful than Sam.  It’s just completely…”

“Cas, if you say ‘illogical,’ I will personally sign you up for Trekkie camp.”

“I was going to say irreverent,” Castiel says moodily.

Gabriel lets out a low whistle.  “Ooh, big word.  I’ve got a bigger one.”  He rests his hands on the arches of the younger angel’s wings before pleasantly chirping, “Love.”

Castiel’s confusion only grows, his frustration swells along with it.  “Love is irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant?” Gabriel repeats in astonishment.  “Holy reaction formation, Batman.  Kid, you are every psychologist’s wet dream.”

“I love everything our father created, Gabriel.  So yes, it is irrelevant.”

Gabriel huffs out a bemused laugh.  “Yes, you ‘ _love’_  creation.”

“I do,” Castiel argues defensively.

“See, this is the problem with the current version of the angelic curriculum,” Gabriel muses, calming the younger angel by continuing with the grooming.  “There’s no language requirement.”

Castiel resists his urge to whine.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about it.”

“Enochian has only one word for love, Cas, which is the love Dad has for his creation, the one he asks us to mirror.  But in earthly languages, there are multiple kinds of love.  Like in Greek.”

Castiel stays silent as Gabriel speaks, the archangel’s fingers stroking over his secondary feathers and straightening them out.  He has a working knowledge of Greek, of course, but has never reflected too deeply on the language.  He’s never had any need.

“Your love of creation is called  _storge_.  It’s natural and familial, like a soft light in the back of your mind,” Gabriel explains, his voice low and so unlike his normal jovial bantering.  His hands seem to move more smoothly over Castiel’s wings now, channeling some ancient being within himself.  Castiel is suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, even more so than before, because  _this_  is Gabriel the Archangel, not Gabriel the trickster or the pagan god.  Castiel is almost dizzy in the company of such power and wisdom.  He doesn’t know how Gabriel’s small vessel holds it all in.  The hands weaving through his wings seem almost disembodied, belonging to a lesser being.  And yet Castiel can feel the thrumming of his brother’s Grace through them, just as clearly as if they were in Heaven once more.

“My love for you is also like  _storge_ , but it’s also  _philia_ , which is characterized by friendship and affection,” Gabriel says warmly.  “It’s probably how Dean feels about Sam, and vice versa.  Although getting them to admit to it would be like pulling teeth.”

It makes sense, whether Castiel wants to believe it or not.  His love for creation is certainly not the same as his love for his brothers and sisters, and the brotherly affection he feels coming from Gabriel is much stronger than his affection for all of humanity.

“But there are two other kinds of love,” Gabriel says, drawing out the words.  “ _Éros_ and  _agápe_.   _Éros_  is desire, which can be purely physical.  But sometimes, it’s accompanied by  _agápe_.   _Agápe_  is the love someone feels for another regardless of their actions, of their past, of their faults.  It’s unconditional and self-sacrificing.  It’s the kind of love that causes people to do stupid things, like taking a bullet or selling their soul.  Like rebelling against Heaven.”

And suddenly Castiel is as cold as ice, drowning in a freezing river he can’t see. Gabriel’s fingers tighten around the arches of his wings as if to prevent him from fleeing from the moment, keeping him grounded in the assault.  It’s Anna’s offer all over again, barreling him over, taking him back the collar, and shaking him for not being able to see earlier.

“So, tell me, Castiel,” Gabriel says, smirk evident in his tone.  “How do you feel about Dean?”

Castiel finds himself halfway down that darkened path he’d imagined earlier.  And he has no idea how he got here.

 “Hey, are you guys coming out for- Oh!”

They both look up to see Sam gaping at them.  Castiel stares at him like he doesn’t recognize him, confused as to what Sam is doing in the middle of his existential crisis. The human doesn’t seem to notice his bewildered stare, too busy having his own minor meltdown.  Sam’s eyes are wide and darting around to take in the entirety of Castiel’s wings, blinking rapidly to assure himself that he’s actually seeing them. When Gabriel clears his throat, Sam shakes his head and quickly looks away, holding up a hand in front of his eyes.

“Oh, sorry, I’m really… Is that weird?  Should I not… stare?” he stutters, peaking around his fingers one more time with an expression that clearly reads  _Holy shit, angel wings._

“Well, I’m not the one sitting around half naked,” Gabriel says casually, and Castiel pulls his wings in so fast that he’s sure they’ll need more grooming.  It’s only after he’s done so that he realizes Gabriel was joking.

“I, uh…” Sam falters, his eyes squeezed shut and his hand groping around for the doorknob.  “We’re going to a bar.  If you want to.  Whatever.”

The door slams shut behind him and Gabriel is laughing now.  Castiel feels a little smile come on to his own face, even as his Grace pulses with the dread and excitement of his own realization.  It feels good to have family again, even if his family consists of two very damaged humans and a wayward archangel.  And Gabriel is an archangel, but he is also Castiel’s older brother.  It has been a while since anyone has concerned themselves with Castiel’s happiness, but Gabriel’s concern and affectionate is evident in his eyes as well as his Grace.

The archangel claps him on the shoulder happily, knocking him out of his reflection. The weight shifts on the bed as Gabriel swings his legs over the side and climbs off.

“You should think about it,” Gabriel says knowingly, pointing a finger at him and heading toward the door.  “Far be it for me to give you a lecture on sexual liberation-”

“I’ll consider it,” Castiel interrupts quickly, feeling vaguely nauseous at the prospect.

“Maybe you could sit on the same side of the booth as him tonight,” Gabriel says lowly, as if it is a scandalous thing to suggest.  Castiel knows when he’s being teased.

“Perhaps.”

He won’t, of course.  But it’s a start.

 


End file.
